Wishing on a Star
by TheChasm
Summary: In their darkest moments, what do various people wish upon that little point of light?
1. Narcissa Malfoy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**A/N: So I've been juggling with this idea for a while now, before I decided to write it. Each chapter will probably be only about this length, but there will be twenty-five of them in total, one for each person's wish. And first up we have... Narcissa Malfoy!**

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**1 September, 1996**

Narcissa had not been in a truly empty house for a long time.

She shivered as she re-entered Malfoy Manor alone, feeling the weight of loneliness suddenly press down on her. Lucius was in prison and Draco was on the train to school, and even the house-elf had abandoned them three years ago. Narcissa had liked that elf. It was a good one, as the species went. She wondered what had happened to it.

She ate alone in the great dining room and then rose to go to bed. She was used to saying something, to _someone_, before she fell asleep: a kiss for her husband or a smile for her son, or even, in days whose memories still flickered in the back of her mind, giggles and gossip for her sisters.

But now Andromeda was a blood-traitor and Bella was _insane_, and Narcissa had absolutely no-one to turn to.

She had not wanted this. She was aware of the dangers of having a Death Eater for a husband; she had not cared because she loved him. But Draco was supposed to be safe. They had fought for a world in which Draco would be safe.

"If I had sons I would gladly give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!" Bella had cried. But she wouldn't. Bella did not have children. She did not understand the fierce joy of motherhood, or the fact that Narcissa would give her life a thousand times over before anyone harmed a hair on Draco's head.

Narcissa had always wanted younger siblings. As a child, she had always respected Bella and adored Drommie, and she had wanted someone to feel the same way about her. When her younger cousins were born she had thought she had a chance with them, but Sirius was always fiercely independent and Regulus liked Drommie and Bella best.

Well, no matter now. Both her cousins were dead.

So when Draco had been born, she had argued with her husband until he agreed to having no more children; Draco was precious and unique and one of a kind, and she would not give him someone to compete with. Draco loved her unconditionally, and to him she could give all the love and protection that no younger siblings had been granted.

But she couldn't protect Draco now.

Severus had made an Unbreakable Vow to protect him, though, hadn't he? Severus would protect him. Draco wasn't alone. He had help. Draco would be alright. He had to be alright.

"They can't take him from me," she said out loud. "They can't separate me from my child. Not from Draco."

As often happened when she was alone, Narcissa's thoughts turned to Andromeda, and more specifically to her daughter. Nymphadora, her name was. She must be nearly twenty-five by now. Had it really been that long since her Drommie, all full of sparkling eyes and forevers, had left her?

Bella had said that Nymphadora had been at the Department of Mysteries in June. She had fought against them. She had been there when Lucius was captured. Narcissa wanted to be angry, but it was hard to do so when she remembered the tiny baby with hair every colour of the rainbow, clinging to Drommie's hip as if she _belonged _there.

No, she could not hate her sister's child. But she could love Draco.

She had moved almost involuntarily to the window; she could see her reflection in the glossy glass. Fair hair, colourless nightgown, blue eyes and a white face. She had always hated her pale appearance, especially beside Bella and Andromeda's vibrant good looks. But a mother's heart beat under that lifeless façade, after all.

Draco wasn't even of _age_. And Nymphadora had made her own choice, hadn't she?

"I wish," Narcissa said slowly, staring at the one star that twinkled in the night sky, "that if a child has to die it will be Drommie's and not mine."

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**A/N: Poor Narcissa. She really was desperate to save her son. I hope I did her justice; she is definitely an incredibly complex character, and I think Rowling put a lot of thought into her.**

**Anyway, please keep an eye on this story! Next chapter will be Arthur Weasley!**

**Last, but DEFINITELY not least... review?**

**~Butterfly**


	2. Arthur Weasley

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**A/N: And here's chapter 2; I hope you'll enjoy it!**

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**5 June, 1997**

The twins' gasps were sharp and terrified as they stumbled over to Bill's bedside. They seemed to be bursting with questions, but Ginny put her finger to her lips and they obediently stayed silent. That tiny scrap of normality seemed beyond odd to Arthur: in light of everything that had happened, how was it that Ginny still had her brothers wrapped around her little finger?

The Dark Mark had been removed from above the Astronomy Tower, and therefore there was absolutely no evidence that anything untoward had happened. Nobody needed to know that Dumbledore was dead, and that Bill… Bill.

Arthur's mind, still numb with terror, began its automatic run-through of the family, checking that he knew everyone was accounted for. Molly was lying, exhausted, in the bed opposite Bill's, tear tracks still glittering on her face. Bill was directly in Arthur's line of sight. Charlie had Flooed earlier to let Arthur know that he would not be able to make it to Dumbledore's funeral.

Percy was safe, at least, and it was possibly the first time that Arthur had been grateful for his son's estrangement. Fred sat with his arm around Ginny's shoulders, listening to her hushed recounting of the evening's events and holding her as if he would never let her go. Beside him, George stared unseeingly at Bill's scarred face with his fists clenched and his eyes huge.

Ron had been given the all-clear by Madam Pomfrey and was probably in Gryffindor Tower with Harry and Hermione; Ginny, however, had refused to leave Bill's side.

It could have been so much worse.

They were all alive, and that was something; but Dumbledore was dead and Arthur knew that they were facing things a hundred times worse that what had already happened. They were all in danger, all seven of his brave, wonderful children: Bill and Charlie in the Order; Percy whom he had no way of protecting; the twins who were just too reckless for their own good (and in the Order as well); Ron, friends with _Harry Potter_; and tiny little Ginny with her dauntless fighting spirit.

His children had been born in wartime, and Arthur could not have been more thankful that they had not had to grow up in it. But Voldemort had risen again and the Weasleys were Gryffindors, after all. They would fight. Arthur wanted to be proud, but he was just so _scared_.

Why, why, why was it always _his_ family?

Arthur glanced back to see the twins giving him odd looks; Ginny had fallen asleep between them. He supposed that he _had_ been standing by the window for a long time, trying to gather his thoughts as he stared out at the night sky. He did not feel particularly compelled to move, but then he saw the fear in his sons' eyes and he sighed. It was his duty to reassure them, to brush away their nightmares and offer words of comfort even when there were none.

He could not hide forever. Soon he would have to abandon this window, leave the stars to their affairs and take care of his own. There were things he had to do: help with funeral plans, speak with Remus, comfort Molly. Take care of the children. Just because Bill was hurt, after all, the others didn't stop existing. They were still there and one hundred percent human, and maybe the twins were successful businessmen but right now they were just scared little boys.

He would go to them. Soon.

"I wish," he whispered, his eyes latching onto a particularly bright star, "that we will make it out of the war with nothing worse than this."

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**A/N: If only, Arthur, if only... **

**The next wisher will be Peter Pettigrew. ****Anyway, please leave a review!**

**~Butterfly**


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